


Tomorrow Is Yesterday

by EdosianOrchid



Series: Powerless [3]
Category: Bleach
Genre: Aging, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Graphic depictions of depression, Happy Ending, M/M, Post-Aizen Sousuke, Powerless Ichigo, Shinji and Hiyori are Ichigo's freaked out parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-20
Updated: 2018-09-20
Packaged: 2019-05-27 02:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15014297
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdosianOrchid/pseuds/EdosianOrchid
Summary: Ichigo Kurosaki has not fully recovered his Shinigami powers, but life goes on.





	Tomorrow Is Yesterday

**Author's Note:**

> Last part of this series with different timelines and different point of views ;)
> 
> **Mostly re-edited in September 2018.**
> 
> ~~Be aware that I am not a native english speaker.~~
> 
> **/!\ DISCLAIMER /!\ I do not own Bleach and its characters, Bleach belongs to Tite Kubo.**

The way Shinji sees it, there are only three kinds of people in this world. Bad ones, ones you follow, and ones you need to protect.

The Visored has never cared much about people but as the almost thousand-year-old death spirit he is, Shinji can make the difference between the good ones and those worthy of being stabbed by Sakanade.

He would follow his little misfit family one more century if the old fools from Central 46 ever decide to hunt them down all over again.

Shinji meets Ichigo Kurosaki when the  _brat_  is trying to overcome the entity in his head. The same kind of entity that lives within Shinji's soul, making Ichigo someone Shinji  _vows_  to protect because he's  _family_ and nobody messes with Shinji's family.

The first time Shinji gets word of Ichigo’s depression along with his anxiety attacks, he doesn’t think twice.

He stops whatever he's doing as soon as he finishes to read Kisuke’s message and he puts his phone back in his pocket.

If Shinji had been hunting a demon at that time, he's not sure if he would have bothered to properly send back the creature in whatever hellish dimension the thing supposedly belongs to.

He immediately orders an overpriced plane ticket to go back to Japan the following day, leaving alone a psychopathic Arrancar with a short temper, miles away and completely escaping his supervision.

Distance makes the heart come to decisions before the head has time to process it.

He finds him the day after.

The door is not even locked so Shinji slips into the room quietly.

The musty air instantly hits his nose indicating him that the only window has been left closed for several days, probably weeks.

The young boy is leaving alone in a small student apartment, not too far from the medical school he goes to.

A pile of dirty clothes is carelessly dumped on a chair, the dishes are left unclean in the kitchenette’s sink and what seems to be expired junk food remains untouched in a dusty plate set on a small round table. Shinji also notices the half-empty liquor bottle lying on the shabby couch with a stack of college books on the other end.

Ichigo’s slight body is sitting on the floor with his back against the hard wall, his knees are curled up on his chest and his head is resting in his hands.

Shinji takes a few steps towards the orange-haired boy and crouches down in front of him.

“Ichigo?”

Nothing.

He tries again. “Ichigo? _Please_ , answer me.”

It takes what seems to be an eternity for the boy to finally lift his head and raise his lifeless brown eyes on Shinji’s concerned face. There're purplish dark circles under them which is the unfortunate sign of days dealing with sleep deprivation. Those damn nightmares are certainly eating the last shattered pieces of his damaged soul.

The ginger blinks slowly at him. “…Shin- Shinji?”

_“Are you real?”_

At this moment, Shinji swears he could get the clearest image of himself slaughtering the entirety of Soul Society.

“Do I look like a goddamn ghost?”

Another slow blink. “I suppose… you’re not one.”

Shinji rolls his eyes with a deep sigh and gets himself closer to Ichigo so he could sit beside him, hissing at the hardness of the floor under him.

“You shouldn’t have-“

Shinji clicks his tongue in annoyance and Ichigo goes silent instantly.

"Shut up, dumbass. Did yer stupid head already forget what I said a few months ago?”

Ichigo stares at him like he has never laid his eyes on Shinji before, he gapes a bit when realization catches up to him and then a weak smile flits on the corner of his mouth.

_“Power or not power, the Visoreds take care of their own.”_

“That’s my boy.”

With that, Shinji gets up on his feet again and the Visored gestures for Ichigo to do the same.

The ginger gets back up gradually, and his slim legs tremble under his lightweight as his bony hands grip the wall behind him for support. Shinji desperately wants to help him, hold his frail body in his arms, and tell him that everything is going to be okay but he doesn’t and the Visored lets him stand up by himself. The boy is strong even if it seems difficult to believe right now.

“Go take a shower while l clean up this place a lil’ and then, I’ll make us some tea.”

“You- You’re staying?” Ichigo asks in disbelief, a light of hope cautiously flickering in his bloodshot eyes.

Shinji eyes him critically. “Well, I hope the couch is actually more comfortable than it looks.” The Visored scratches his head, thoughtfully. “And I guess, I’ll just pray that this blue-haired asshole won’t start some shit while I’m gone.”

Ichigo flinches slightly and his shoulders drop in defeat at the mention of the former Sixth Espada but he doesn’t comment on it, neither does Shinji.

The Visored scrutinizes the pale figure facing him, holding a rude curse in the back of his tight throat.

Shinji still wonders how they could have let a kid fight their damn war and lose a good chunk of his young soul in the process.

He will _never_ forgive his sorry ass.

The Visored glances away first and scans his surroundings once more, wincing at the wave of guilt stirring in his stomach.

 

* * *

 

 

“What’s a godfather, anyway?”

The question comes with all the natural truthfulness Grimmjow could only reserve to a single person in the whole world.

Ichigo studies rapidly the small crowd on the other side of the splendid flowered garden.

Goat-Face seems to have stopped whining about the _‘children growing-up too fast’_ and is now conversing enthusiastically with Ryūken,stony-faced as ever despite the fact that he gets to be called _'Ojīsan'_  these past few days. Hiyori and Yoruichi are still giving hell to Urahara, awkwardly chuckling behind his fan while Karin is arguing about god knows why with Shinji who is absently playing with his tongue stud. The rest of the invitees, mostly high school friends including Chad and Ichigo’s other sister, Yuzu, are all happily gathered around the young parents.

He shifts a bit on the garden bench while carefully holding the tiny infant in his arms.

 _‘Yuuto’_ is peacefully asleep and unware of the party given in his honor by his parents. The light breeze makes the few fledgling locks of dark hair similar to those of his father’s, softly whirl around under his baby hat. Ichigo readjusts the blanket around the newborn and gently strokes a finger on one of his round and adorable pinkish cheek. He couldn’t help it but they remind him of the baby's mother.

The Arrancar gives them a curious look, squinting dubiously and Ichigo smiles fondly at the blue-haired man standing in front of him, stooped shoulders with his hands lazily shoved in the pockets of his pants.

Grimmjow is ridiculously handsome in this white suit (courtesy of Uryū’s tailoring skills). It fits his muscular body perfectly and Ichigo feels rapidly distracted by the sight of him.

He shakes his head a little and clears his throat while he mentally digs for some self-control deep down in him.

“A godfather and a godmother are sort of designated substitute parents for their nephew or their niece,” Ichigo starts to explain with a low voice to avoid disturbing the sleeping baby in his arms.

Grimmjow frowns thoughtfully and raises his eyebrows, encouraging Ichigo to elaborate further.

“For example, if Orihime and Uryū both die then whether Tatsuki and her wife would take care of Yuuto or myself and… _you._ ”

Grimmjow’s body tenses right away, his light blue eyes threatening to pop out of their orbits at any critical moment.

A wave of panic startles Ichigo and he prays all the deity he remembers from History class, for Yuuto to not notice his sudden distress with whatever some magic intuition that babies could supposedly sense at the earliest stages of their lives.

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he declares in a monotonous tone while getting up on his feet abruptly.

He cradles the newborn a short instant and then without a second thought, he carefully places Yuuto against Grimmjow’s chest who takes the little baby boy in his grip.

The Arrancar blinks frantically at Ichigo and drops his mortified gaze on the small human being sleeping in his arms, Yuuto remains absolutely undisturbed by his new caretaker.

Ichigo takes a step back to consider what he has just done impulsively, feeling his heart pounding too fast in his ribcage. He makes a quick mental diagnosis of his health condition as the wary Doctor he is.

Grimmjow looks up and gives Ichigo a nasty glare but he remains quiet and glances back at the baby, his expression softening very clearly.

Ichigo’s time has not come yet but he seriously wonders if it could be possible for his heart to melt like a scooped ice cream at this point.

He inhales a huge puff of air through his nose to calm himself down and this time he takes a step forward to draw himself closer to the Arrancar whose attention is still entirely focused on the resting child in his grip. Ichigo lifts himself a little on the tip of his toes and tugs on the fabric from the suit jacket Grimmjow is wearing. He approaches his mouth towards the Arrancar’s ear.

“You’re doing great, but I truly have to go to the bathroom now.”

A warm breath skims the Arrancar’s ear and Ichigo could feel the man shiver beside him.

He tilts his head a little to press a gentle kiss on the cheek where his hollow broken mask used to be. Then, he lets his mouth slowly circling over the rest of his jaw to finally press another soft kiss on Grimmjow’s lips.

Ichigo pulls away. Grimmjow is staring at him in complete stunned silence, still unaccustomed to Ichigo’s abrupt outbursts of affection. His bright blue eyes sparkle with confused surprise.

“I’ll come back shortly,” Ichigo mutters with another fond smile, his gaze wobbling on Grimmjow and Yuuto.

Ichigo turns his back, still smiling and he heads towards the back of the house.

He hears Orihime’s delighted shriek from behind and a strangled gasp from Uryū, promptly covered by a loud mocking laughter from Shinji and a few other shocked whispers among the guests.

A rapid series of clicking sounds triggered by several cameras, ensues.

 

* * *

 

 

The rain is drizzling down the streets and the residences for a good thirty minutes. Ichigo is just getting done with a late shift at the hospital.

This has been another of these stressful days at work. They are rare even though Ichigo would gladly do without them.

He takes shelter against one of the hard walls of the hospital, his body shielded by the extending high roof above his head.

Heaving a deep sigh, his tired gaze drifts to the night sky and the pouring rain.

Mesmerized by the rainfall, Ichigo’s thoughts are stirred by irredeemable loss and his shattered soul _stings_.

Rain always makes his old scars throb with buried memories. He hates rain.

Ichigo goes through his large pockets, looking for the small square shaped package between his fingers and the other thin object that comes with it.

He finally takes out the cigarette pack and the lighter. He's definitely one of these annoying doctors who don’t follow their own medical advices.

Ichigo lights his cigarette and draws a long breath of the deadly substance into his lungs, smirking at the irony.

It remains occasional, but it's still a stupid habit he could have easily avoided.

Still better than his shitty drinking habits when he was fighting against depression during his college years.

He can practically hear his blue-haired lover complaining for the umpteenth time, about the odd suicidal hobbies that humans have.

The pressure of the atmosphere around him quickly turns into something heavy and peculiar.

Ichigo almost drops his cigarette on the ground and he tilts his head to the side, thoroughly scanning his surroundings. Could it be-

A Hollow?

No.

Is he hallucinating again? For some reason, it has stopped years ago along with the nightmares, but his soul is still stinging sometimes. This is something _real,_ something he can feel deep inside of him at any moment of his life, even when his sparring sessions to get his powers back have slowly became sparring sessions to simply stay in shape.

These delusional episodes can come back eventually, Ichigo is aware of that but-

This aura is familiar, except it _can’t_ be.

It should be impossible for him to detect and still…

The rainfall coming down in buckets slowly falters and the night becomes quiet again. Only the faint traffic in the nearby street comes to disturb the silence.

He throws the cigarette roach at his feet, feeling a disbelieving smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

“Rukia, I-“

The words die in his throat and he wonders where to begin.

 

* * *

 

 

“Shinji, you fuckin’ dickhead! I can’t believe you agreed to that unholy mess!”

Hiyori barges into Shinji’s room with an indignant look of accusation on her face.

Shinji is a dead man.

“Agreed to what?”

The enraged tone in Hiyori’s voice and the sound of her foot frantically taping on the floor are not enough to make the other Visored look up from his ancient Latin book about Demonology.

Some kind of irritating jazz song is playing on the record-player.

“Did the few cells in your brain get sucked out by a demon out there?”

“I don’t know what you’re talkin’ bout’, brat.”

Still ignoring her, Hiyori steps forward to slam a hand down against the small desk, she snatches the old book from Shinji’s hands to throw it away across the room and hisses when she realizes it’s heavy enough to make her loose her balance in the process.

“That’s what I thought, you don’t need to have your brain eaten by a demoniac creature if you’re already a dumbass,” she snaps, gripping the edge of the desk just in time before she falls on the ground.

Shinji pinches the bridge of his nose, looking like he’s pushing back a massive headache. “Aren’t ya supposed ta be patrollin’ around the shouten or somethin’ tonight?”

“For fuck’s sake Shinji!”

With Hiyori hurtling on top of the desk, what ensues results in a murder attempt via paperwork and a handful of other dusty books tossed at Shinji’s face which gets quickly handled when Hiyori finds herself forcibly hanging upside-down, like a carcass on Shinji’s shoulder, who also retrieves a vampire stake clenched in one of her hands and puts it back on his desk.

“So now, care ta explain what’s yer problem brat?”

Hiyori tries to escape from Shinji’s cobra hold, without success and whines in frustration against the fabric of his shirt on his stomach.

“The idiot strawberry and your shitty Arrancar sidekick!”

“So, what?”

“I saw them!”

“Yeah? Ya already know that they occasionally hang out together and they also spar in Kisuke’s basement so what’s the big deal-“

“Are you sure about that?”

“You’re not makin’ this easy brat,” Shinji sighs, rolling his eyes till they almost reach the back of his head.

“Since when sword fights include kisses and dick strokin’?”

Shinji drops Hiyori on the floor with a loud curse and slaps a hand over his forehead, eyes narrowed. Hiyori crawls at his feet, growling like a wounded animal.

It makes sense.

He should have seen it coming.

The faint shade of pink on both of their faces sometimes when they’re close to each other, the late “promenades”, the fights that have indeed become longer, the fact that Grimmjow ends up staying at Ichigo’s apartment more and more often instead of Kisuke’s place when he gets back from America with Shinji…

Goddamnit.

“What do we do?” Hiyori persists vehemently, as she slowly gets up on her feet.

“Nothin’ brat,” Shinji huffs, gazing up at the ceiling with a thoughtful look.

“So much for keepin’ that psycho away from your protégé for almost a decade and then lettin’ him fuck-“

“Quiet Hiyori! Let me think!”

The door bursts open a second after and truly, the universe has a strange sense of humor.

 _Bite marks_ , Shinji notices with a mental wince as his glance lands on Grimmjow’s neck, the Arrancar is standing in the middle of the room with his usual moody frown pinned on his face.

“Where did ya put the fuckin’ TV remote, gremlin?” Grimmjow asks, glaring at Hiyori with his fists clenched.

Shinji and Hiyori exchange a meaningful look of mutual understanding which only the two of them have the intimate knowledge after a century putting up with each other.

“Plottin’ one o’ yer sick games, morons? I ain’t in the mood for-”

Things happen very quickly.

Hiyori shunpos towards the door like a wrecking ball to slam it with all her strength as Grimmjow instantly reaches for Pantera, releasing a furious snarl from the back of his throat.

“Bakudō, Way of Binding No. 30, _Shitotsu Sansen_!”

With a single finger, Shinji draws a triangle of energy in the air and shoots it on Grimmjow to pin him against the closed door before he could reach for his sword.

The intense displeasure on the Arrancar’s feline features is Shinji’s clue that it’s going to be a _very_ long night.

“We need ta talk partner.”

 

* * *

 

 

Grimmjow puts a little sugar in the cups of tea set on the silver shelf. He carefully arranges the pastries and the napkins all around, then he lifts the shelf from the counter and walks towards the patio.

They had to move again to avoid suspicion.

He could have passed for a personal android assistant because robots don’t age and plenty of young folks buy these machines for the elders nowadays but Grimmjow is not really the type of creature who could fake being a giant bucket of bolts with a computer in his head instead of his brain.

The Arrancar is not going to complain though, he has chosen this place himself and the quality of life is ideal.

The small house is isolated in a lush valley, away from prying eyes. The back overlooking the river with the crystal-clear water, they could also hear the waterfall in the distance.

A village is located nearby and Grimmjow gets all the supplies they need there.

He may not have gone where he intended to go all these years ago, but the Arrancar thinks he has ended up where he needed to be after all.

Grimmjow puts the shelf on the coffee-table and takes a seat in the long chair. He grabs a cup of tea and offers it to Ichigo who takes it with a shaky hand as well as a pastry in his other hand, also unsteady.

Ichigo has lived surprisingly long considering what his body endured when he still had his Shinigami powers and all the stress he faced when he lost them.

His friends haven't been so lucky. 

Life truly hangs by a thread and humans are stupidly fragile. 

Grimmjow still doesn't know how to feel about this linear existence but he's sure as hell he has seen and experienced more things in the last few decades than he could have possibly imagined.

Ichigo slowly lifts the cup to his lips and prudently blows on the hot liquid, then he takes a faint sip, swallowing with a little difficulty. He bites into a piece of the pastry and winces straight away.

“It tastes weird,” he declares disgusted with an accusatory look aimed at the Arrancar, as if Grimmjow is suddenly responsible for the worst crime of the century.

“Diet sugar,” Grimmjow answers with an innocent shrug as he takes a sip from his own tea.

Ichigo sighs loudly and pouts childishly.

A few strands of white hair obstruct Ichigo's vision and the Arrancar pauses briefly to ponder about a possible haircut tomorrow.

“What bout’ yer diabetes, dumbass?” Grimmjow asks starkly.

“ _I am_ the Doctor, not you,” Ichigo shoots back, his dull brown eyes squinting a bit and making the lines around them stretching even more.

“ _Was,_ ” Grimmjow corrects calmly and then adds, “Hell, you’re a shitty patient.”

Ichigo can’t help it and he chuckles.

“Well, I suppose you’re right.”

“I’m _always_ right.”

“Moron.”

“Old fart.”

They laugh in unison until Ichigo is stopped by a coughing fit, Grimmjow rushes at him in sonido to pat his back frenetically, making Ichigo drop his cup of tea on the wooden floor.

“Gri-“

The Arrancar continues to forcefully pat Ichigo’s back when a frail hand tugs on his collar, drawing Grimmjow’s face an inch away from Ichigo’s nose. A couple of freckles could still be seen among the wrinkles. Grimmjow instantly stops patting Ichigo’s back when he notices his irritated look.

“Are you trying to rip off my lungs or something?” Ichigo asks sarcastically with a scratchy voice, awkwardly rubbing a spot in the middle of his back.

“Fuck ya, I’m savin’ yer old ass from dyin’ stupidly!” Grimmjow protests, annoyed. "D'ya want ta end up like those old peeps dyin' alone in their home cause' they chocked on a fuckin' apple?"

“Go easy,” Ichigo insists stubbornly, with a critical look at the dropped cup and the tea splatter on the floor. 

"If ya think I'm goin' ta let ya drop dead on me like a weak old wreck-"

"I'm _fine_ , Grimmjow."

Ichigo's evident annoyance has completely disappeared, now replaced by an expression of insistent reassurance, glowing in his still warm golden eyes.

Grimmjow leans his head into Ichigo’s hunched neck and he lets out a frustrated grunt.

He hears a sneer and then a couple of warm fingers brush his own back with intense fondness.

“Thank you for taking care of my _old ass._ ”

The caresses slowly reach the back of his neck.

_"I love you."_

As a response, the Arrancar puts his arms around Ichigo's diminished body in a slight territorial manner. 

In all honesty, Grimmjow still doesn't know jack shit about the concept of _'love'_ and if soul mates are truly a thing in this universe or if this is just some bullshit humans have made up for ages.

He doesn't exactly have a reputation for being a thinker anyway.He follows his Hollow blood, which doesn't exactly rush in the direction of his Arrancar's neurones. So he probably has made a lot of mistakes and a lot of wrong bloody calls based on pure instinct. 

The only thing he knows is that some beings are just meant to come into somebody's life, to smack them awake, tear apart their ego to reveal another layer of themselves to them and then simply _leave_.

Human, Shinigami, Arrancar... It doesn't fucking matter in the end.

He closes his eyes as he feels a familiar pair of lips pressing a tender kiss into his tuft of blue hair.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this series :)


End file.
